


A Job Well Done

by makesometime



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: F/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Spoilers for Edér's quest, Team Bonding, Vague White March spoilers also, Whoops the Watcher keeps putting poor Edér in life or death situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10079804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: “After we head to Defiance Bay. We should take a few days back at Caed Nua. Cool off, relax.” She stretches her arms over her head, shoulders popping. “Sleepinfor once.”Edér groans, the rumble chasing down her spine, making her stomach flip. Images of more than one body in her bed flicker across her mind's eye… then away again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A series of short reflections, starting from the night after Edér's quest. Inspired by the fact I need to stop choosing the poor man to do scripted tasks.

“Hey, Watcher.”

The voice is soft, but it carries easily to her ears on the soft night air. The silence, only punctuated by the odd snore of their companions, should have allowed her to rest. The voices in her head are not so considerate. 

Edér looks up from his whittling, eyes rimmed with dark circles that match her own. Ever since finding the answer, such as it was, to the mystery of his brother’s path he hasn't slept easy. The insistence tonight that accompanied his offer of taking first watch was lost on none of the group. 

The accepted likelihood is that no one will be woken to take over. 

Tomorrow they will start again. She and Edér dead on their feet. It can't be healthy. 

She winces as she sits down beside him, bruising on her ribs from their last fight making itself known. He smiles, companionable understanding in the turn of his lips. They've all been there. 

She watches as he moves the knife over the branch, each pass shaving off a thin layer of wood. He isn't accomplishing much, simply keeping his hands busy. Kana crafts little trinkets, Sagani makes her own arrows. Edér just. Goes through the motions. 

She wants to apologise again, for not being able to answer his question. It weighs on her. She wonders, had she unfurled a thread in the memory path differently, would she have seen what Edér so badly needed to know? Was it her fault? She’s still new to using her powers so frequently, so deeply. Learning new techniques every day. If they hadn't arrived at the battlefield for another month, could she have done  _ more…  _

“You'll wake everyone up if you keep thinking so loud.”

She jerks at the shock of his voice, turning her head to see him watching. The flush on her cheeks is part embarrassment, part shame. Thinking only about how all this affects her, again.

“Sorry.” She mutters, looking down at her hands. “I can't help it sometimes.”

“What do you see?” He asks quietly, setting his work down. He pulls his pipe out of his pack instead, setting about packing it with tobacco. “When you go all glassy eyed and still. What's actually happening? If you don't mind me asking…”

She smiles, inhaling deeply at the first scent of his pipe smoking. It reminds her of her father. 

“No, no. I'll do my best to describe it.” She rests her chin on her palms, closing her eyes. “It's like. The most vivid dream you've ever had. An out of body experience. You can see. You feel. It's all happening to you, and yet it's not.”

She presses her fingers to her lips, gaze lowered to the campfire. “When I look at the souls of other people, I'm an outsider, an observer. I walked with your brother on his travels, I didn't live them. But when we found that machine, it  _ was  _ me. I was living it.”

She looks up, expecting to see horror on his face. Instead she finds dull acceptance, an understanding. He seems to understand. 

“I don't know what it means yet.” She admits, swiping her hair behind her ear. “I wish I could say it's all clear.”

“Ah, where'd the fun be in that?” 

Edér smiles softly, the quirk of his lips drawing the same from her. An empathetic reaction, nothing more. 

“We could do with a little more fun in our lives huh?” She shakes her head. “After we head to Defiance Bay. We should take a few days back at Caed Nua. Cool off, relax.” She stretches her arms over her head, shoulders popping. “Sleep  _ in _ for once.”

Edér groans, the rumble chasing down her spine, making her stomach flip. Images of more than one body in her bed flicker across her mind's eye… then away again. 

“Don't tempt me, Watcher.” He laughs quietly, but it's chased away with a sharp yawn. “Huh. Maybe it's time to turn in. If you don't…”

She waves her hand dismissively. “Please, one of us should rest. And I can guarantee it's not going to be me.”

He nods, picking up his things and crossing to the tent she just vacated. It's slightly more spacious, no one wanting to bed down with a thrashing mass of nightmares as a matter of course. He can take advantage of the privacy to get a proper rest. 

Eventually she picks up the branch and knife he abandoned and sets about trying to copy his strokes, following the markings he's left so far. She’s no whittler. But there's hope for her yet. 


	2. Chapter 2

She traces the scent of smoke on the air back to the group’s room for the night, the sound of her friends carousing fading from her ears with each step. The door to the room is slightly ajar, a signal agreed between them all that it's safe to enter. When she pushes the heavy wood open and sees Edér by the washbasin she exhales, slow and steady.

His back is scarred, his shoulders curved in through years of him carrying a heavy pack, a weighty shield. There's a line of soot at the base of his neck, rubbed away with a rag as she watches. His arms are black right up to where his sleeves fell. His dusty blond hair streaked with grey.

Beyond him she can see the basin is thick with dirt already. He coughs heavily, spitting into the rag and rinsing it out best he can. She hadn't realised, really. What she was doing by letting him go in there. The lasting damage she might have caused.

“Ah, I'll be fine.” He says.

She chuckles, taking a few steps into the room. The door shuts and latches behind her. She doesn't correct it.

“Now I consider myself pretty stealthy…”

“I've told you before Watcher. Can hear those old cogs turning from a mile off.”

She can see in his body language a certain amount of uncertainty in his form, his outward appearance. The veteran soldier worried about the image he portrays. She keeps her eyes on his alone, ignoring anything else. Hopes it's enough to settle his concerns.

“Thank you for what you did earlier.” The praise trips off her tongue effortlessly, truth guiding the words to his ears. “I know the people here appreciate you saving Keydy. I, uh. Wondered on the cost of your bravery after a minute or so passed but I'm glad it worked out for the best.”

She watches as he swipes the rag up and down his arms, smearing and catching the worst of the muck. It'll do until the morning, when they all have a turn at fresh water. He's mostly pink again, save for his hair and beard. Mostly back to Edér colours.

“It was the least I could do. If we'd been sooner…” He shakes his head. “Lot of ifs. Best not to think on them too long.”

There's a stubborn slash of soot across his forehead, pressed down into his wrinkled brow. Without really thinking on it she steps forward, draws the rag from his hands and passes it over the smudges a few times, the dirt fading. His eyes are fixed on her face. Curious. Confused. One of the two. She’s not sure which is more apt.

“There.” She smiles, dropping the rag on the table. “Fit for polite company again.”

He turns his head sharply, giving a few hacking coughs into his elbow, rubbing at the mess he leaves behind with the heel of his palm. When he looks back, there's a spark of mischief in his eyes, and a trail of black spittle on his chin.

“I'll trust in your good opinion, my lady.”

Her thumb smooths the black mark from his chin without hesitation, fingers brushing his cheek, his jaw. It's a gentle, thoughtless motion that makes his eyelids flutter, his centre of gravity pitch just a hair closer to her…

Her hand presses to his sternum. It's not a denial. She ensures he sees that as his gaze focuses on her face. It's the furthest thing from a denial she could intend.

No, it's more of a pause. A request for time.

Time she increasingly has to face that they may not have.

Edér’s chin drops, a wry smile turning his lips. He'd kiss her now, if she let him.

Instead she presses her lips to his cheek. A hero’s reward from his lady. A thank you, for a job well done. Poor substitute for the real thing.

His skin is warm, smokey. Not in that way that makes her smile to scent at camp, but in the dangerous, dirty way that suggests trouble not far off.

And if that's not a metaphor, she doesn't know what is.


	3. Chapter 3

Throughout dinner she can’t stop her eyes from drifting across to the tent from time to time, her forehead creasing as she frowns, considers. Sagani catches her gaze once and poorly hides a smile, burying a hand in Itumaak’s fur and turning away without speaking.

Edér’s going to die one of these days, if she keeps asking such ridiculous things of him. The look on his face when Kana burst out of the pond, shaking and shivering, had said it all. 

Resignation. She had at least  _ tried _ to keep him out of it this time.

Amusement, too though. He was shucking off his weapons before she even put word to her request.

Afterwards, he had pretended to be fine, all the while they fought slavers and ogres and those awful toothy fish creatures. But the moment she suggested they retreat to the wolf cave for some rest he let his shoulders slump, his teeth chattering as he made an attempt at a smile of agreement. 

He disappeared into the tent to change while the rest of the group prepared dinner. Elsa was expecting him to change but he hasn’t come out since, his silhouette from the lamp hung inside showing him bundled up, resting. She understands his choice but still, he needs to eat.

She gets to her feet, crossing to the campfire. Pallegina passes her a bowl of stew before she can reach for the ladle, steam curling and dancing from it in the chill night air. The feathered woman smirks, neither wanting nor attempting to hide it, unlike their dwarven friend. 

Elsa bites back a snide comment from the tip of her tongue, aware that the incessant cold is responsible for her heightened sensitivity to everyone’s apparent investment in her private affairs. If the tables were turned she would no doubt be the same, she’s always been too nosy for her own good.

“Thank you.” She says instead, cradling the bowl in her hands and starting over to the tent.

Pallegina laughs softly from behind her, but offers nothing further. Elsa does appreciate her newest companion's tact; were it anyone else on cooking duty this evening she doubts her current path would’ve proceeded without comment.

She clears her throat and then lifts the flap of Edér’s tent slowly, wanting to alert the man to company and give him time to stir from his slumber. He grunts, a welcome of sorts, and she ducks in to join him, eyes fixed on the bowl lest she spill any.

She glances up from under her brow as Edér sits up, his loose cotton undershirt looking warm, blessedly dry. She’s well aware that it’s the last of his clean spares. He’s groused about it plenty on the road, the fact that they’ve not stayed in one place long enough for laundry for several weeks making the very idea of a clean set of clothes seem a distant dream.

He settles the furs over his lap and tugs at the neck of his shirt, rolling his sleeves up as she settles on her knees beside him. He takes the bowl and spoon gratefully, but stops short of eating at the sight of what’s inside.

“Who…” He brings it to his nose and sniffs, frowning. “Who cooked?”

Elsa snickers, tugging off her boots and slipping her feet under the edge of his furs. She rests her chin on her knees. “Pallegina. It’s an old Vailian recipe.” She hums and lets her eyes fall shut as the scent of it fills the tent, the weight of her earlier meal pleasant in her belly. “Trust me, it’s good. Tastes like home.”

He squints at her, but brings a spoonful of the thick stew to his mouth regardless. When he swallows and gives a soft groan of approval, Elsa grins. 

“Told you.”

He laughs, swallowing down another two quick mouthfuls. “Don’t know why I even doubted.”

_ Probably because I keep trying to kill you… _

“Are you feeling warmer now?” She asks instead. Her eyes trace over him, looking for unspoken troubles. A suppressed shiver maybe, or a blue tinge to his skin.

Edér nods, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He puts the half-eaten bowl in his lap, scratches the back of his neck. “Much. Just needed to hunker down for a time.”

“I’m sor--.” 

“Hey, think it finally got rid of the stench of smoke.” Edér talks over her, stifling the apology that she feels compelled to give. When Elsa purses her lips, he winks. “Ah, I’m just joking, Watcher. Comes from being the fittest of us all.”

She can’t help the snort that escapes as he rubs his rounded stomach. “Absolutely.” She agrees, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Your load to bear, huh?”

“You get me.” Edér grins as he returns to his meal, still smiling as he takes in the next spoonful of food. 

“Regardless.” She says, swiping her hair to one side, the warmth of the tent growing somewhat oppressive in her heavy outdoors gear. She slips off her cloak, folding it up and putting it beside her. “The next death defying feat is on me.”

Edér tucks the empty bowl down by his feet. His face is serious as he looks at her now, the depth of feeling in his gaze making her breath catch. “I’d take every risk going if it kept you safe.”

She’s long known his words to be true, but the sincerity with which he states it… Elsa looks down at her hands, knotting her fingers together just to stop herself from reaching for him. 

It’s only been a week since they arrived in Stalwart, but it’s felt so much longer. 

Fighting alongside him, close enough to see the sweat on his brow and the effort as he swings his sword, lifts his shield to block blows that were meant for her… Every battle is a inch closer to being too late.

They move together this time and she doesn’t consider stopping him. His lips meet hers and it’s such incredible relief but there’s no divine chorus, no triumphant fanfare. He kisses her with a softness that seems almost out of character as she shuffles closer to him, linking her arms around his neck.

His tongue probes her lips, his hand cupping her cheek and she parts to him, the thick flavour of stew still lingering in his mouth. It makes it even more real, somehow. Associating the tastes of her home with the man who’s so different from anyone she’s encountered before. His arm tugs her closer and she shifts into his lap, groaning at the feel of him so close.

A whistle sounds from outside the tent, followed swiftly by Aloth’s chastisement. 

Elsa pulls away from the kiss, laughing softly and combing her fingers through Edér’s hair. He grumbles, trying to draw her back in as she leans away, reaching overhead to snuff out the candle.

His beard tickles as he kisses along her jaw, down her throat. “Wanted to see you.” He murmurs into her skin.

He nips at her sharply when she groans, turning back to him and taking his face in her hands. She kisses the tip of his nose, smiling when he scrunches it up in response. “Next time.” 

His eyes flash in the dark, hungry. “Promising a next time before the first huh? Bold.” He kisses her quickly. “I like it.”

Elsa grins, pushing him down onto his back. “That’s not all you’re gonna like.”


End file.
